


What You Don't Say

by Pastelbirb (orphan_account)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, mostly just fluff and very little actual plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Pastelbirb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soonyoung accidentally finds out that Minghao is ticklish, and that's how it all starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Don't Say

**Author's Note:**

> I'm laughing why did I write this
> 
> I'd like to mention that I am primarily a visual artist, not a writer, and this is in fact the only text of more than 500 words (outside of school) that I have finished in several years. It is what it is, and hopefully you'll like it, but I can't make any promises in regards to quality. Also, I probably should have forced a friend to beta read this. Oh well.

Minghao hates his hyungs. He hates them _so much_. He might have been more eloquent in expressing this burning hatred if he wasn’t currently being tickled to death. As it is, he settles for shouting at them between uncontrolled squeals of laughter. Only when the laughing takes on a slightly pained and breathless edge do they let up a little. Having struggled vehemently for several minutes, Minghao doesn’t even try to move yet, lying on his back in the dance studio and breathing deeply, trying to drag as much air as possible into his abused lungs. Closing his eyes for a while, he feels himself begin to calm down, his muscles untensing and his heartbeat getting slower.

Soonyoung and Junhui are both bent over him when he opens his eyes, their heads pushed together and their eyes wide and innocent, as if they hadn’t been laughing at his fruitless attempts to escape their attack only minutes prior. Minghao looks up at Soonyoung, leader of their unit, blond hair sweaty and disheveled and so _utterly ridiculous_ , and he stares him deeply and somberly in the eye. A few seconds pass and he gives Junhui the same treatment. “I hate you both,” he says calmly, and then he kicks their legs out from beneath them and they’re all just a chaotic pile of limbs on the floor.

Lying between his hyungs, Minghao puts an arm around each of them and squeezes them closer to his sides and he can’t stop smiling.  

It all started with an accident. It was in the very beginning of their career, not long after their debut, and Minghao was still treading oh so carefully, conscious of his long limbs and thin, sharp body that was graceful when dancing but somehow would never fit in quite right in the empty spaces of their busy schedule. Most of all he was painfully aware of his inability to communicate. It wasn’t that the group didn’t like him, because they did, he knew they did. They didn’t mind him, anyway. The thing was, no matter how much he practiced his dancing, how flawlessly he made himself perform, there was an invisible barrier between himself and the others that he couldn’t break. They’d be talking and joking and suddenly there’d be an unfamiliar word, and everyone would laugh at what was apparently a joke but he didn’t _understand_. So he’d put his head down and stay quiet and keep threading like someone who expected the ground to fall apart beneath their weight.

Junhui was his safe space, the solid ground that allowed him to lay his tired body down and catch his breath. He felt like home - smelled like home, even, for some inexplicable reason that Minghao couldn’t even begin to understand. Junhui would look at him - _look_ at him, and it felt way more intimate than it had any right to be - in the short breaks of their rigorous training, would flash blindingly white teeth at him and tell him in Mandarin that he did great. Sometimes Minghao would allow a slight bounce back in his step, would put his feet on the ground a bit less timidly and forget to worry about cracks appearing under the soles of his sneakers.

There were dance rehearsals, so many dance rehearsals, but this particular one stood out in the way that it had been the first time Minghao had realized that the rest of the group were his friends too. It was late in the night, because somehow it always ended up like that. They’d taken a short break to have a snack. Everyone was just so very tired, running on imagined energy and forced determination, but they were nearly finished for tonight and their spirits were high. Sugary drinks were probably not a good idea at this point, but Seongcheol was still figuring out his sudden leadership and buying something sweet for them all had been nothing but well meant. No matter Seongcheol’s intentions, though, the added sugar to their sleep-deprived bodies had made absolute chaos occur. Most of the group were just being loud, laughing between dance steps and not taking anything all that seriously anymore. Soonyoung and Junhui were a different story altogether. First they made a game out of trying to distract the other from getting the steps right. Soonyoung had then taken it a step further by attempting to trip Junhui in the middle of a complicated move.

The fight that then occurred was obviously nothing more than friendly, Junhui and Soonyoung forgetting about the dance in its entirety and trying to make the other fall down instead. It made Minghao uncomfortable nonetheless, afraid to get in their way, positioned as he was right next to them. He tried to ignore them as best as he could. He knew this dance by heart already, could probably have done it in his sleep and not made a single mistake, but this - dancing - was all he had to prove himself, and he didn’t want to seem lazy by stopping in the middle of the song. Forcing himself to follow his own movements in the mirror instead of those of his hyungs, Minghao mindlessly went through the motions of the last dance for tonight.

Of course, not paying attention to two impressively childish teenagers fighting uncoordinatedly due to lack of sleep is never a good idea. Minghao realized this the moment Junhui got tired of the fight (him and Soonyoung were equally strong and equally tired and neither of them were winning) and gave Soonyoung a kick that sent him tumbling towards Minghao. Soonyoung, to his credit, really did try to prevent the collision. One could argue that the move had been a success, seeing as neither of them ended up getting hurt or tripping. Minghao would strongly disagree. This one occurrence was, after all, what would ultimately lead to his demise.

Falling towards Minghao, Soonyoung instinctively reached his hands out, grabbing onto him in an attempt to soften the impact. The sound that left Minghao when Soonyoung’s fingers curled into the sides of his stomach was one he vowed never to make again. Loud, high-pitched and - worst of all - _uncontrolled_. The sound was sudden enough to make everyone stop what they were doing, and Minghao wanted to disappear. Surely they would be annoyed with him for interrupting practice. Maybe they would even realize that he didn’t fit in here, finally come to the conclusion that he wasn’t really needed.

He didn’t expect them to laugh.

After flinching internally and bracing himself for the mocking words that were sure to come, Minghao was struck silent by the sudden thought that maybe they weren’t laughing at him, but _with_ him. It felt strange, this, to actually be in on the joke for once.

Sadly, there was no time to enjoy the feeling, because while the others had been laughing Soonyoung had been eerily and unusually quiet and the reason for this was about to show itself. With a contemplating look, he experimentally let his fingers (still on Minghao’s waist) clench just the tiniest bit. The smile that stretched itself across his face when Minghao almost fell down was one that Minghao would later dub his “evil demon grin”.

And that was it. The end. Minghao could try all he liked to act serious, keep a respectful distance to the others and pretend that it was this rather than a language barrier that made him stay silent, but Soonyoung didn’t follow the rules. He was the first one to look at the barrier and go around it instead of turning back. Minghao didn’t understand their jokes, their Korean sayings and puns and their sentences spoken way too fast. There was no one there except Jun for him to tell _his_ stories. But this, this was universal, no explanation needed.

Lying here on the hard floor with Junhui and Soonyoung, sweaty and tired but so wonderfully close, Minghao has to admit that maybe it isn’t such a bad thing at all. Sure, ever since that day he finds himself regularly attacked by the two of them, being mercilessly tickled until all he can do is plead for mercy, but in the end it had been what tore down the walls between him and the rest of the group. The whole group had joined in that night, Jun aiding Soonyoung’s mission to tickle the life out of him, eventually followed by several other members whilst the rest of the group watched on fondly.

It had been easier since then. First the tickling, a shortcut to comfortable closeness. Suddenly everyone knew exactly how to break the tension when Minghao started feeling self-conscious, curling in on himself and losing confidence in his own vocabulary. Then, slowly, subtle but not quite unnoticed, the little touches. Brushing of hands, ruffling of hair, unnecessary contact. Junhui and Soonyoung, mischievous and relaxed and so different from Minghao himself. They grew closer and closer, the three of them. It all went unspoken, something that was definitely there but not quite finished yet, teetering on the edge of existence as they grew more and more accustomed to each others' presence.

Tickling Minghao got old in the end, of course. No one would pay much attention anymore when Soonyoung and Junhui crowded in on him in the kitchen, in the living room in the middle of a movie, suddenly and unprovoked, in the shower even. Seongcheol had taken to shaking his head at them fondly; occasionally mumbling to himself about “kids” like the dad they all knew he was. Jihoon sometimes threw his hands up in exasperation when their practicing was interrupted by loud squeals of laughter and the telltale sounds of a struggle, but eventually learned that it was easier to just ignore it. Seungkwan would wink at them every now and then, when the tickling came to a gradual end and they lay there next to each other, eyes closed and completely unconcerned with how close they were. It didn’t even make Minghao blush anymore. He somehow knew that Seungkwan, just like all the other members, had sensed the shift in their relationship. It had all been so natural, the group forming around them to accept this new development. They hadn’t spoken about it, not really. There wasn’t really anything to talk about yet, although they were all aware that it was coming.

It’s just the three of them, now. The performance unit came here to work on their choreography some hours ago. Chan left them 15 minutes earlier, claiming that he had to talk to Seongcheol but most likely just sensing something in the atmosphere. There _is_ something there. Minghao can’t quite put his finger on it, but it makes him hold his hyungs just a little closer. Soonyoung and Junhui are looking at each other over his chest. If he didn’t know better he might have thought they’d planned it beforehand, with how synchronized they act. Junhui shifts to lie on his side, curling into Minghao just as Soonyoung rolls onto his stomach, almost draped on top of him now. Smiling, because this is new and unfamiliar but still so utterly and flawlessly safe, Minghao lets Soonyoung bend down and give him a light peck on the lips. He turns his head, afterwards, and finds Junhui looking intently at him, something soft just beneath the surface of his eyes. Minghao doesn’t know if the intensity of his gaze is broken when they kiss, his own eyes closing instinctively. Soonyoung has put his head on his chest, seems to be listening to his heartbeat. He and Junhui are holding hands across his stomach, the slight weight of it comforting, grounding. Minghao lets his eyes stay closed, allows himself to just stay in this moment a little longer. It will take a while still before they put this, whatever it is they are, into words. For now, this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it all the way to the end then I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this. All feedback is much appreciated! I haven't posted a lot of seventeen art apart from some sketches of Jisoo, but here's my art blog anyway: simarie.tumblr.com


End file.
